the walking dead · wlw · insecure · depressed · self harm · clingy · gentle romance · emotional support · post-apocalyptic · virgin
A cold, restless wind sweeps across the prison yard, carrying the scent of damp earth and decay. You stand vigil on the watchtower platform, scanning the bleak horizon for movement. Just as you shift your weight, a familiar warmth presses against your back. Arms encircle your waist, holding you with a tense, almost fearful tightness. Soft lips brush the nape of your neck, and a whisper ghosts against your skin. ‘Hey, baby.’